Shadows of the Grave : Alptraum
by Skywolf24
Summary: James Barnes made a promise that after the war, he would raise his baby sister Allyson, but when his frozen heart discovers the truth in the darkness of memories that begin to haunt him, he struggles to find the man underneath the Winter Soldier while entering a crimson storm when HYDRA unleashes a lethal, unpredictable assassin who targets Steve as her prey . Post-CAWS.
1. Chapter 1

**Shadows of the Grave**

**All characters belong to Marvel**

**I do not own these characters**

* * *

_The spectrums of amber; glowed from the street lamps of the restless city became entrapped in his striking pale azure eyes. He shifted lightly, meeting the tender grayish azure orbs of his promise, his baby sister, nine-year-old Allyson Gabriel Barnes. She had been a dreamer, always putting her beliefs in the unrealistic to make the morbid coldness of war fade into the starlight. He was her big, protective brother; she never called him by his nickname "Bucky" but the name, she heard their mother saying when he first held her tiny body in his arms._

_"James," she said, her voice a low pitch. "Why do you have to leave?"_

_"Hey," he replied, with a softness in his baritone. He gently caressed her pale cheek with a simple brush of his fingers. "It's not going to be forever, Ally," He slacked the edges of his desirable lips into an assuring, infectious smile. "I'll be back before you know it, kid."_

_Allyson nodded, lifting her blue eyes to the distant starlight._

_"Steve will take care of you while I'm gone." He said half-joking, turning his neck to meet her somber gaze. His eyes glinted in the weak slant of light reflecting against the glass windows of the building surrounding them, and Allyson noticed a solitary tear escape from his right eye, sloping down the sharp curve of his smooth jaw-tears represented weakness that they at no time shared. They never allowed to brand them during the years of grief._

_"How can Steven protect me when he can't even defend himself." She said in all the honesty she could muster up. "You always came to his rescue and broke a few noses. He'll just get battered up more, and I'll have to save him."_

_Bucky shook his head, smiling at her with a stupid grin playing on his lips. "I'll make you my official replacement." He chuckled lightly, running his large hand through her Auburn ringlets. His eyes became still, in behind the layers of his pressed uniform his heart became jaded, shattering into pieces. He stared intently and lovingly at his sister, absorbing in every detail of her delicate ivory facial features, ruby lips and shadowed blue eyes. He knew that when he returned from Europe, she will have matured into something beautiful, something that men believed was worth fighting for when entering the blaze of war._

_"You're going to make it, Ally." He cupped his hand over her jaw. "You're strong, girl." He said in his best cajoling tone, watching a tear roll down her high cheek bone. "I'm going to miss watching you grow up into a beautiful young woman." He swallowed down a constricting lump; his throat felt like it was sealed with glue. "I promise you; I will come back to you." He traced his thumb lightly over her the slope of her nose. "You're my my mission." He revealed with his brightest voice. "Remember that no matter what happens on the battlefield. I will always be with you. I'm your big brother."_

_Allyson narrowed her eyes. "You have to promise me that you'll be back, James." Bucky gave her a crisp look with his steady eyes, brushing away the tears off her ruddy cheeks. "I'll be waiting for you, James Buchanan Barnes."_

_"I'll back before Brooklyn's first snowfall." He said quietly, holding her stare. He lifted himself up off the cement roof, feeling a division forming between them. A harrowing sense of coldness rippled in his veins, almost like he knew that this was their last moment together. Bucky wrapped his strong, broad arm around him and tugged her close. She dug her face into his chest. He stroked his hand through her dark locks, taking in the softness and warmth. "I want you to be a brave girl for me." He whispered; his voice sounded strained. "Don't follow me."_

_She nodded, "I won't, James."_

_Bucky pressed his arms tighter around her trim, narrow build, embracing her, not wanting to let go of her. He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "I will find you again." He snarled under his breath. "I swear it, Ally."_

* * *

**_{ + Chapter 1 + }_**

His black army boots sloshed in the muddy puddles as he walked in the sheets of rain. His sloppy dark strands of hair stuck on to his stubble covered jaw as he tasted blood seeping down his raw throat.

His faux-leather uniform, belt pouches and hostlers tattered and drenched. His weather beaten and chiseled features battered and stained with blood. He was going nowhere. Dark shapes of tombstones reflected in the depth of his, menacing pale blue eyes as, his cyber tonic metal arm held his broken limb in a tight secure grasp. He clenched his teeth, snarling under his breath as the pain of his snapped bone seared deeper in his heated veins.

The Winter Soldier unconsciously drifted alone in the heavy downpour, confused and hardened by flashes of memory-bits and glimpses of another life.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." A faint breath ghosted out of his soft lips, he involuntary twisted around and narrowed his calculating steel blue eyes at an oval-shaped gravestone. He felt his cold heart reaching a standstill, his raked over the cracked granite and dried up rose petals. He felt his knees give out, crashed onto the muddy earth.

His metal fingers gently brushed over the etched name. He blinked, trepidation pounding his throbbing skull, as tears welled in his eyes. "Her name is Allyson Gabriel Barnes." He trailed off, feeling the curves of his mouth curve into a frown, tasting the rain. He grunted in frustration. The name on the grave became oddly similar inside the pools of his stolen memory, "Allyson."

Abruptly, as a vexatious sound in the branches forced the Winter Soldier to straighten to his feet, unnerved and on guard. He cracked his metal knuckles, and extracted a dagger from a pouch located on his hip. He twisted meticulously around, positioning his body into a fighting stance, murderous blue eyes locked on the imposing shadows.

Raw emotion veiled over his gaunt features, as he gritted his teeth. His lips snarled up a threatening scowl.

"Show yourself," he roared, viciously. His lips clamped into a tight line; chest heaved as his eyes went to umbra of tangled branches. "I said, show yourself."

"Take an easy, son," an elderly man's shaky voice cut through the sultry air. "I'm not going to hurt you." He gestured his age spotted hands with a well-meaning posture. "I just came to visit an old friend."

The Winter Soldier growled up his throat, lowering his knife. "The name of the grave," he paused, locking his darkened azure chasms with dark brown. "Who was she?" he asked, gruffly with a shaky exhale.

The older man strolled closer to the grave leisurely the stoic, intimating Winter Soldier withdrew a step back. He narrowed his foggy eyes, "Her name was Allyson Barnes. She was a gentle soul and a sweetheart. She always followed her brother around." He drew out a despondent sigh. "When James died in action, she went looking for him-you couldn't stop her determined mind. One December night, she fell into a frozen lake and drown. No one was ever able to recover the body." He removed a rose wrapped in white tissue and with a shaky, hand placed it in front of the grave. "Allyson was ten when she died. Nevertheless, she's with her brother Bucky." He nodded somberly. "The Barne's siblings will never be forgotten." He said quietly.

"I think I knew her," The Winter Soldier divulged under his breath, his eyes probing for his resolve in the ripples of water underneath his boots, as the older man slowly turned and faded into the rain, leaving the ghost of the forgotten past with tortured thoughts. "She was my mission." He dejected, his vacant, tortured eyes looking dismal at the grave. His voice cracked as he absently touched the delicate rose. He pulled out the delirium as a memory of her youthful blue eyes flashed in the dimness of his stinging, resentful tears.

_"You're my mission."_ He blinked his shadowed eyes against the splashes of rain. _"Remember that no matter what happens on the battlefield. I will always be with you. I'm your big brother."_

He clasped his lips momentary shut as he felt an endless ache in his wounded, marred heart. "You're...my sister."

* * *

The sickening stench of dried blood hovered in the caress of milky light. She was bound to an electronic, padded chair, hums of EKG machines vibrated in her pulsing veins. She felt a sensation of pain wormed throughout her slender, lithe frame. She became consciously aware of her dingy surroundings. Medical carts, work benches and operating tables. Everything screamed horror in her mind-she adapted to her new purpose.

The restraints clutched around her trim forearms tighter; blood dripped from the corners of her mouth. Her feverish system was becoming saturated with a foreign substance; her metabolism and hormones changed rapidly increasing endurance and her a highly advance conditioned body. She panted out heavy intakes of air, trying to focus as she felt a grease drip through her rib cage. Every muscle throbbed in agony, and blood churned into the smoldering lava as needles penetrated inside her neck.

"Her body is no longer rejecting the serum." She heard a deep, cold voice discharge. "Every injection will increase with pain, but Alpha7 is strong. She can take it."

She was sweating; she felt sick. "I'll be waiting for you," she mumbled out, incoherent words. Her rapid breathing became hitched and words ragging up her throat."Winter... Ice." She darted open her grayish blue eyes, staring vacant of imposing human shapes. Her eyes gleamed with savage hatred, making shivers trickle down the spines of her captors.

Doctor Marcus Falin, a ruthless inhuman German doctor for Hydra narrowed his gray eyes at the captive twenty-two-year-old woman. He looked at her ivory skin, cut-stone features shadowed, swathed with bruises and smears of blood. Her blood-like lips sliced, and dark Auburn hair draped over her bare shoulders. Her intense, guarded blue eyes cloaked with controlled remorse and pure rage. He pulled himself closer in a steel chair, and squeezed her frigid cheeks. "Do you know what you are?" he hissed, raking his steely eyes over her bruised stomach and the thin black sports bra covering her ample breasts. He stiffened his lips, "What is your name?"

"Alpha7," she replied with a gravelly voice. Her eyes infused with hatred. He pulled her head up by gripping her strands of long russet hair.

"What is your mission?" he bellowed with a threatening voice. Her unresponsive body didn't flinch against the tone. He struck her face with a hard slap, jerking her head to a side; blood spilled out of her mouth."I asked you a question. It's in your nature to respond to the commands given to you, Alpha7."

She glared at upwards at him with murderous blue eyes, baring her teeth. "I kill." She growled, answering him with a strained German accent. Her sharp nails digging into the leather arms of the chair. "I hunt prey and follow commands. That is my purpose."

"You have a new target to hunt down, my dear." He growled low and abrasive, stroking her thick locks of hair off her shoulders. "Our high superiors require the target's fresh corpse." He was infernal his face blank without expression." The Director doesn't care if the target arrives in pieces." He chortled out from a gruff German accent.

"Who is my target?" she panted out a deep breath, her voice glacial and inhumane. Her mind registered the words pounding in her eardrums. Her eyes became livid colors of merciless steel."What is my mission?" she growled, voice deep and baleful.

"He's old friend of yours," he tilted his head closer. His lips brushed her tensed jaw."Captain Steven Rogers."

"I don't have friends." She slammed her eyes shut, snarling out her words like a feral beast. "Just targets. I will not fail." The asset spoke; defiance was burning in her eyes. The bones of her hands began to shift painfully as she jerked slightly in the chair. "I will destroy him." She said firmly, words extending into a growl of a wolf. "I will kill... HIM."

Falin curved his lips into a devilish sneer, petting her shiny hair. He craned his neck and looked over his tensed shoulder at his weary assistant. "Prep her with increased dosages. I want her fully changed before we set her loose."

"Her body is too unstable. I can't control her if she reaches the deepest state of delirium." The assistant explained, swallowing thickly. "Alpha7 may become out of control-kill everyone on site. Can we risk that?'

"Two dosages will be the right amount to make her lethal enough to kill Roger's within contact. She's not a super soldier, Malvin but an inhuman weapon." Falin regarded him coldly, "A hollow shell with no emotion. No feeling, just existing for our purpose to restore the world by removing the disease called S.H.E.I.L.D." He traced his thumb over her beautifully shaped lips. "All she is for Hydra is a collared dog to be let off the leash to bite."

His bony fingers toyed through her hair as he punctuated her skin with another needle, watching the contents drain into her pulsing vein. He pushed her back against the chair; her muscles flexed as she instantly opened her mouth and bit down on the rubber mouth guard. "I want everything dissolved out of her mind. I want her to have memories. Wipe her clean."

She tilted her head back as two robotic metal probes latched on to either side of her face, imbedding into her temples. She seethed harshly, sweat dripped over her body as, she machine switched on, and she jerked violently as her blue eyes became piercing shade of liquid steel. She snarled and screamed as electric shock waves zipped throughout her body. The assistant shielded his eyes as he listened to the bones crackle underneath her scorched muscles, and shuddered at the haunting cries of a tortured animal. Another dosage penetrated through a vein in her forearm, making her jaw crack and facial structure contorted and canines grew longer. She lashed against the leather straps, snarling and trembling against the thralls of the transformation. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, as he mirrored the same anguished expression.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, watching her body jolt in agony, and her air take became erratic. She was bleeding, muscles glistening and eyes changing into a carnal color of molten silver.

"No," she unleashed cries; her mind was becoming torn apart. "Please help me...No... James!"

Her eyelids sealed shut as her bones wrenched and altered into a dominant untamed shape.

* * *

_He stood in the dim luminescence of lamplight, tall, defiant and unbearably handsome. His soft-hearted azure eyes dazzled with assuring warmth as he leaned against the door frame. His lips quirk up into a gorgeous, charismatic smile as he stepped forward. His body lowered to her level and firm hand gripped her shoulder with a loving squeeze. "Remember this, Ally. We find our strength within ourselves." He bowed his head, and she eased his hat over his groomed dark hair._

_"Just promise me that you'll find me again, James." She whispered with a gentle voice, looking up into his sincere eyes. "You're all I have left..." She slightly bit hard on her lip. "I need you to stay and teach me how to fight."_

_"When I get back we'll use Steve as target practice." He chuckled, hollowly. He wrapped one of his strong arm around her. "Until then little sis, stay out of trouble. I'm going to miss you terribly." He choked out, trying to show his brave spirit to her. "I love you so much, Allyson." _

_"I love you, soldier James." She beamed beautifully. Her face narrowed as he extended out a hand, and opened their mother's music box, allowing their melody to play in the silence around them. Allyson looked intensely at him with tear filled blue eyes._

_He cleared his throat, "Play this song when ever you need me, and I'll come to you." He whispered delicately against her ear. "Pretend its magic." He pulled away, raising his chin defiantly. "Now give your big brother a good-bye kiss."_

_She pressed a pliable kiss on his smooth cheek, whispering with a light sob. "I'll be waiting for you, James Barnes."_

_He embraced his baby sister into another, tight hug, and then walked out of the door. He was no longer a tough boy from the streets of Brooklyn, but a soldier of winter._

_"Please come back to me, James." Allyson murmured watching her brother disappear in the shadows. She heard the obscure fog horn of the steam ship wafting in the air._


	2. Chapter 2

**{ + Chapter 2 +}**

* * *

Sitting inside, a crowded Starbucks across from Times Square; Steve Rogers, dressed in a blue jacket, baseball cap and frayed jeans pressed his rigid back against the leather cushions of a chair, his leg crossed and a scuff marked sketchbook, the same one from his teenage years which Peggy Carter kept in box along with a few white and black photographs of the Howling Commandos. The book rested on his lap as he flipped through the crisp pages and looked at old and faded drawings of his past.

He narrowed his cobalt blue eyes at the graphite image he recreated from a distant and cherished memory-Bucky Barnes, standing near a stairwell with his leather jacket, puffing a cheap cigarette.

_"You know, Buck." Steve spoke to his best friend, the charming and tough Bucky Barnes-his elusive big brother and shield against the Dalenty boys-two, spoiled pot bellied brothers with pot mark faces._

_Pigs, the aggressive words of Bucky called them every time he rammed his fist into their jaws and kicked them in the ass after Steve had fallen with another bloody nose.  
_

_ Steve allowed his firm voice to reach Bucky's ears, as he swiped away the smudge of fresh blood from the corner of his mouth. He spared a glance at the lit cigarette resting in between the older boy's fingers. "Those things will kill you," he gestured vaguely at Bucky's hand.  
_

_"Not if the war doesn't kill me first," Bucky replied nonchalantly, inhaling another puff, he lowered his bright azure eyes at the skinny runt standing a few inches from him-his soft lips quirked at the edges as he grinned lightly at his friend's gaunt looking expression. He raked his hand through his slick chestnut locks, and sighed, "You know, Steve, you really should put some ice on your lip-it's going to swell."_

_"Don't worry about me, Buck." Steve answered, acting stern and indigent. "I know how to handle a split lip." Bucky shook his head, his lips broke as he drew out an amusing chuckle. "Hey. What's so funny?" he growled back, his jaw clenched._

_"You always think that you have those bastards on the ropes, punk..." Bucky replied, dropping his cigarette as he put it out with his shoe. "You think you're like David to Goliath -I have to admit you have spirit, but you lack one thing-" He felt his voice drifting as he stared firmly at Steve with a tender gleam in his blue eyes. "You need to stop pretending that you have power and start learning your opponent's weakness before you throw the first punch." He said softly, placing his hand on Steve's bony shoulder. "The truth is, you don't have to fight-you've got me watching your back, pal."_

_"Lucky me," Steve muttered out a fond whisper under his breath, he looked up at Bucky, staring into his friend's sincere eyes. A light lopsided grin tugged at the edges of his lips. "You're a jerk, James Barnes... But you're also one Hell of a friend."_

_Bucky shook his head, laughing defiantly,"Come on, pal." He slung his arm over Steve's shoulder. "Let's go grab some ice for that busted lip of yours, tough guy." He teased, jerking the skinny kid in a friendly embrace as both of them walked down the unpaved alley._

"Well, I didn't expect to find Captain America in here," Sam Wilson's voice wafted in his ears, Steve blinked, twice, lifting his head up as he stared at his friend wearing a white US army T-shirt, track shorts and reflective sunglasses which covered his sharp brown eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest-he looked down at the empty coffee. "Do you want a refill?"

Steve looked at him blankly, "No, thank you... Sam." He replied, his voice shaky and strained, "I think I'm done having coffee for the day."

He lowered his eyes to the sketch and slowly got up to his feet, cradling his forearm over the hidden bandages wrapped over his waist, grimacing against the pain.

Sam instantly wrapped his arm over his broad shoulder-just like Bucky used to do, after he was off balance from an alley fight. He tucked the sketch under his arm and lifted a tip on the table.

"Um... Cap," Sam pointed at the crisp bill on the table. "You don't leave cash for them here. It's not a Brooklyn diner." He looked at the blonde haired super soldier with his wary dark eyes, studying the grim expression on his friend's chiseled features. "You okay, Cap? You've looked better... I'm guessing you still in denial about what happened with you and your old pal."

"I broke his arm, Sam." Steve said, unexpectedly. He slammed his eyelids shut for a moment, drawing out a frustrated breath. "He's my best friend and I gave him pain because that was the only alternative to stop him." He squeezed his hand into a fist, watching the skin under his knuckles turn white as he felt jabs of remorse pierce through his bones. "He's out there... Surviving by instinct and whatever humanity Hydra left in him. The Bucky Barnes I know is too stubborn to walk in a hospital, he hated doctors." He wrenched his eyes away, fastening his lips into a firm line. "I need to find him and save him before his injuries become critical."

Sam sighed, "Yeah man, I know that this rouge assassin means a lot to you... He tried to kill you a few times. I would be extra cautious when engaging into a conversation with this man." He looked into Steve's hopeful, deep blue eyes, "I think he won't be thinking straight... If he's lost a lot of blood, he'll probably be passing out somewhere he thinks is a safe place-Central Park-or somewhere familiar to his memory."

"I requested Natasha to scope out the last locations he had lingered -so far no sign of him."

Sam pulled on his sunglasses, "Of course you know that I'm helping you, Cap." He took out his wallet. "I've got a few things to take care of back at home base, but when everything becomes finished..." He paused in his words, pulling out his American Express card." I'll be with you every step of the way, my friend." Sam leaned in forward to Steve and whispered, "You and I both know, it's not going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is, Sam." Steve replied with a grace of smirk.

* * *

Inside a darkened room, hues of red light reflected in the whiskey glass as the amber liquid rolled against the surface.

The Director of Hydra sat comfortably at his desk, looking over 'Ghost files' of the missing sleepers tucked in different cities across the world. He had planted a fail-safe on each of them if they ever reverted back into their former existence.

A sneer cracked over his lips, breaking his stern resolve as he sensed a harrowing chill erupt in his veins—he flicked his darkened eyes, turning his head to the window and stared intently at the lithe- narrow build a figure garbed in a black leather, elbow length gloves and black thigh -high boots with reinforced heels. A Russian Kindja knife was strapped over her right arm, pouches were wrapped over her curves filled with a deadly arsenal of weapons. She was dressed to kill- to blend in with the elements of darkness and to hunt down targeted prey.

His expected visitor remained motionless and stoic in the slant of moonlight; intense gray-blue eyes underneath dark auburn locks glared at him with controlled malice.

"Everything is all in order, my miracle. " He began, his voice gruff and firm. "Your hunt will begin once things in Manhattan are in motion. We cannot afford any mistakes with this mission. Assets need to be taken care of and old ghosts must fully disappear—It is time for a new order to rise from the ashes, Alpha7."

"The mission will be complete, father." she answered in rich German accent, a growl laced in her menacing tone. Her eyes became hollow, ice-like daggers as light dissolved out of her black pupils; she clenched her gloved hand into a fist, staring down the small metal spikes on her knuckles gleam in the crimson glow of light. "The American and his loyal alliances will feel the blood drain from their veins and I will listen to their dying breaths scream out.." She allowed her eyes to drift at him staring darkly at the satisfied breaking over his straight lips." All... Hail... Hydra."


	3. Chapter 3

**{ + Chapter 3 + }**

* * *

The slant of the tarnished canvas of sunset became entrapped in her sharp, emerald-gray eyes; Natasha leaned her lithe, dangerously curved frame against a pile of rusted, tin oil drums. Her arms folded over her ample breasts —she listened acutely to the distant sounds of a freight-train, wheels hitting the tracks as her iron-straight, scarlet locks began to curl on the tips. She closed her eyelids shut, blocking out the amber light and allowed instinct to control her senses-she listened to the voice of Maria Hill buzz inside her eardrum.

"I sent out the information you required on a memory stick, Nat." Maria's authoritarian voice executed in a low tone through the wireless comlink."At 9:06 PM one of our field agents will reach your location and hand over the device—everything you requested back at base is secured in a sealed envelope."

"It didn't have to become like this, Maria," Natasha replied, her voice a low and remorseful pitch. She curled her finger into a fist, letting out a frustrated breath. "Everything we tried to sweep up has been compromised—you need to change your identity and find a new safe house away from American borders. This country isn't safe anymore—not when Hydra's sleeper agents are straying from their command." She instantly snapped her eyes up and stared at a motorcycle speeding through a dust cloud. "The carrier has made his pit stop." She whispered, narrowing her gaze down at the gun strapped to her right thigh.

She paused in her words for a few moments, allowing her thoughts to drift back to the memory at Fury's gravesite when she uncharacteristically pecked his smooth cheek with a gentle kiss.

The cold logic of the Black Widow knew she let her vulnerability show when her guard when down—her wounded heart pounded inside the confines of her chest, reminding her that she did feel emotions—human underneath the layers of iron and ice. But did she care about Steve enough to survive another day without looking into his deep, soulful blue eyes? Was she finally losing her edge, for allowing a trust and compassionate friend to finally see through the red —permanent stains of her darkened, nightmarish past in the Red Room? For wanting him to have a new life and live without regrets? In those moments of silence, allowing the dust to lash against her ivory features, she felt condemned for allowing herself to believe that he was going to have victories over his life's battles. She felt the searing pain of her of sins melt into her bones—turning her numb inside and out. Steve was a good friend, partner and freedom in her eyes—he never allowed her to face the crossfire alone and deep in the pit of her stomach she knew Captain America will always have her back.

She will always have his…

"I want you to keep an eye on Steve for me, Maria." Natasha said in a scarce whisper, advancing past a beat up truck. "Make sure that he finally asks Sharon for that date. She's a nice girl." She involuntarily placed her hand on the hostler, fingers slid absently over the sleek metal as fierce anticipation rose in her veins. Slowly, she clicked her heeled boots on the dirt, glaring at the black leather garbed rider mounting off the saddle of the bike. She inhaled the stale summer heat and drew out her weapon, aiming the muzzle at the driver's chest. "You have three seconds to tell me why you've invaded my territory."

"Easy, Tasha" the familiar and light-hearted voice of Clint Bolton echoed in her ears. Natasha froze in her mid-strides, and curved her lips into an unsteady frown. "I didn't come here for target practice." He lowered his purple shaded glasses—revealing his hawk-like stare of ice blue. He threw a backpack to her boots. "I came here to deliver this to you under Hill's orders."

Natasha slipped her gun back into the holster, crossing her arms, she gave an inscrutable look. "Where have you been hiding all these months, Clint?" she questioned, studying his tensed and sweaty face. "We need you when Fury took the shot."

"I've busy on recruiting missions in Africa...Wakanda —Fury has his eye set on a new obsession of gaining the interest of a stubborn, royal candidate for the Avengers." Natasha shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm heading back there with Bruce Banner tonight—we've been ordered to apprehend this new recruit by any force necessary, the location is highly advanced with security and looks of warriors with spears. But I'm here to see you out for you disappear and to tell you that…" He paused, swallowing a tight lump down his throat. He tentatively replaced his gloved hand on her tensed shoulder. "I've been thinking about us a lot—after Loki turned me into a puppet —it's haunted me because I almost killed you."

"Stop being a drama queen, Clint." Natasha smirked, placing her hand on his shoulder. "We've tried to kill each other, many of times. We need to move forward and focus on our mission of surviving another day—That's all we can do." She withdrew a step back, and bent her knees grabbing the backpack. "We'll see each other soon—there's always going to be another threat to face and we'll be ready."

Clint watched her sling the backpack over her shoulder; he advanced closer, gripped her arm and swung her into him—both of their bodies collided as he crushed a hard, breathless kiss on her lips. His tongue rubbed along her teeth, and slowly slid into her mouth. He snaked his broad arms around her waist-holding her close, as his fingers kneaded through her silky copper locks as he felt her lips mouth under his with the same rhythml of pace—heat consumed their bodies as Natasha kissed him raw and urgent.

She closed her eyes—images of Steve's handsome and chiseled face skimmed out of the deep, murky recesses of her mind. His cobalt blue eyes burned with determination and defiance and the taste of his soft lips still lingered in her mouth—she was falling in love with Captain America. Instantly she broke away, panting and placed her hand on Clint's face, looking deeply into his sincere eyes. "You know where to find me," she gave him a weak smile and sauntered her jutting hips to his bike. "Mind if I borrow your ride, Clint?"

Clint blinked his eyes, and stared at her lower her body on the saddle of his bike "Wait—Tasha." He called out, listening to her start the throttle. She tossed a set of keys at him.

"Needs a full tank—" She shot back, spinning the wheels in a 360 angle and then sped away— leaving him covered with dust and dumbfounded.

"Take care of yourself, Tasha," he smiled, reaching down for the keys.

* * *

"What happened to you, Buck" Steve whispered, his breath scarce as he felt a sharp constriction in his chest—a dull ache of a shattered heart. He stood in the darkness, baseball cap pulled down slightly, shadowing over his deep blue eyes—the hazy golden and blue spectrums of light from the projector reflected over his leather jacket.

He stared intently at the black and white footage for a moment before his eyes close and head narrows. The voice of the narrator hums in his ears, reminding him of a bond between two boys from Brooklyn that he thought would last forever.

The corners of his smooth, rigid lips altered into a frown; he stared misty eyed at the images of twenty-one year old, tough and earnest Bucky Barnes wearing a scuffed up shirt, dog tags gleaming in the dim afternoon light —he was happy, smiling with his charismatic, warm demeanor determined and tender steel-blue eyes bright as he turned his head and looked at Captain America smiling like an idiot next to him.

A faint smile graced over Steve's lips, he remembered that afternoon, an American journalist took those images while Bucky and him for discussing plans for their next mission-German occupied compound near the north side of the mountain. They stopped and allowed the older man with thin framed glasses to capture a memory with them.

_"Sgt. Barnes, can you tell us more about Captain Rogers?"_

_"It depends," Bucky replied with a cocky grin, staring directly at Steve. "I can't reveal too much on this punk… Unless you want to see my sorry ass get beaten up by Spangles right here." He chuckled out a hollow breath, he looked at his best friend with a warm expression beaming over his scruffy face. "Steve Rogers is a skinny kid from Brooklyn who always had the fat Delantey boys on the ropes with a few bloody noses—he never gave up a fight. Yeah, um… That's pretty much all I'm saying to the American public." He laughed again, slicking his, groomed, rich brown hair back and off his broad forehead._

_"The both of you grew up together?" the reporter pressed out, holding his wired microphone inches from the two commandos._

_"Steve, as always, been my wing man," Bucky said, placing his hand firmly on Roger's broad shoulder. "He's like a little brother who always got himself into trouble—but he's always there watching your back…" He paused in his words, lowering his blue eyes down. "He's my blood brother and I'm with this blonde haired punk until the end of the line, right pal?"_

_Steve grinned widely, patting his lifelong friend on the shoulder. "Right, Buck."_

Steve mused at that memory in silence, before he lifted his sharp blue eyes—feeling the blood heat in his veins. His mobile phone rang, sighing out a sharp breath; he quickly pulled out the sleek device and touched the screen reading the text message.

_Hey, red and blue popsicle—Enough with the history books for the day. You're spangle shorts are needed at Stark Tower. Our favorite sunshine boy who brings the thunder is back in town._

_Tony._

Steve sighed, removed his hat, brushed back his sweaty, short golden locks. He gaped at the message for a few seconds and then quickly sent Tony a small text.

_I'll be there._

_Steve._

He eased the cap over his groomed blonde locks; drawing out a shaky exhale and he looked at reel images Bucky smiling on projection the screen."I don't know what Hydra did to you, Buck." He snarled his lips into a fierce scowl, clenching his knuckles into a hard fist. "I will find you and bring you back.. I promise that my friend."

He walked slowly out of the darkened room, stuffed his hands into his jacket's pockets, turned as he forced his vow out in a faint whisper, unaware a pair of sharp, menacing silver-blue eyes watched his presence fade from the shadows of the room. "I'm with you until the end of the line, jerk."

* * *

The stern, assuring voice of Captain America-Steven Rogers wafted in his pulsing ears; the slant of light shone in the depth of his unsteady, restless gaze. He was standing in a corner, ashen and weather-beaten facial features shrouded in confusion. His slender, muscular frame garbed in a black leather jacket, frayed jeans and gloves.

His broken right arm positioned against his firm chest in a makeshift sling. His metal bionic forearm cradled protectively over his graven-bruised torso. His head narrowed, dark locks of drenched, matted chestnut draped over his neck and square jaw-line. He quickly removed a baseball cap from the interior of his coat-pulling it over his lengthy strands and moved closer to the projection screen.

He paused in his methodical strides, his pensive blue eyes still and haunted by the images of an unfamiliar ghost flickering on the screen; his unshaven jaw clenched as he became stoic in movement until the voices of two friends lulled him out of the drifts of tortured thought-he fought against the waves of Hydra's control-the endless pulsing of delirium coursing in his veins and watched the young man on the left of the screen smile brightly with Steve Rogers.

"I know his name," The Soldier muffled under his breath, his voice raw and strained. He looked directly at the image, his lips fastened into a firm line. "Steve Rogers." He let out a heaving breath, feeling the air drained him his lungs. His shadowy, guarded blue eyes narrowed at his trembling hands. "He was the man on the bridge... My mission..." His raspy words drifted as he felt a knot build in his chest-or the glass shards that were still lodged in his rib cage.

"Steve Roger was someone's best friend." He reminded himself, his voice barely a whisper as his shaky body mustered up the strength to advance closer-fear involuntary grew in him and his eyes search in the darkness for an escape from lashes of torture in his mind. He set his jaw hard and allowed his eyes to latch on old images of the Howling Commando's and Captain America framed against the walls around him-a name underneath a photo of the same young, handsome man in the film made his watery gaze flicker as he read out the words in a desperate whisper. "James Buckanan Barnes."

He lowered his head, trying to grasp the stolen memories, tears streak over his tensed and ruddy cheeks, his soulful eyes welled with torment as his soul shattered into thousands of jaded pieces.

"Is this my name?" he whispered in a low pitch, mouth quirking into a quivering frown. "Could I be James Buckanan Barnes?" He swallowed down the metallic taste searing against the rawness of his dry throat, his heart suddenly felt like a vice grip inside his chest.

The Soldier held his eyes on the picture for a momentary slice of time- biting his lip. He withdrew a back step, muscles coiled and skin burned as he fought against an inward battle of his existence -he lowered his tear filled eyes at his metal hand, curling the fingers into a fist. His eyebrows furrowed and timid features morphed into a fierce scowl-impulsively, he picked out a piece of scrap paper and began writing down a few words with a pen he stole from main entrance.

_I can't remember who you are, but I know your name.. Steve Rogers._

He paused to wipe the blood running from the corner of his lip.

_I know you're looking for me... I'm sorry for everything and if I was your friend James Barnes, then leave it like that. Don't come looking for me-I don't want to be found._

He lifted his head to the screen, warm tears steadily flowing over his pale cheeks.

_I'm not the person who deserves Captain America to rescue him-forget about me. Allow me to become a ghost again._

He silently moved in front of the picture of Bucky Barnes and placed the paper in a space between the frame and glass-he stuffed his metal hand into the pocket of his jacket and slowly melted into the darkness. He parted his lips and released a faint, audible whimper in Russian, "I wish I could fight by your side... My friend."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

It was dark when she woke to the searing coldness of metal penetrating deep into her rigid bones. The new form of injections had created an intense configuration of power latching over her muscles, burrowing deeper into her veins. She had become immune to the sickening feeling of blood churning, the hollowness cloaking over her bones as the bond of the serum forged a new strength which no human could fight against as each drop of it encased the blood cells and formed a genetic altering flow that rippled through her lithe frame.

Each test subject experienced the effects differently, some had become weaken by the transformation and became blood stains of the floor, others were uncontrollable against the twisting of the bones, the contortion of the limbs and the endless appetite for cold blood to wash down their throats after the kill. Her body absorbed the pain, worming, writhing further until she felt nothing of human existence just a mindless collapse of delirium and the empowering taste of a remorseful hunter. She hated feeling the pulsating jolts, invasive and condemning inside of her. Sometimes after the debriefing of the missions in Hydra's sanctuary-she found herself staring into the void of someone else's stolen memories-a stolen life that was once meaningful and filled with love and security, instead of being a captive and locked inside a prison of cage.

Throughout the years of being condition into a lethal weapon, she became a commander of a secret operative force for Hydra called the Alpha Hydrens-a group of international assassins and snipers trained, kidnapped and stolen from their homelands and molded into valuable assets that were tortured and abused until every piece of their existence became covered with a raw shroud of perfection. She was the first to succeed in missions, the first to rake off inferior scum that refused the new order of Hydra's disciplined world.

Commander Alpha7 sauntered methodically to the wall mirror, standing deathly still in the shafts of milky light. Darkness entrapped into the chasms of bluish-gray as the murky shadows hooded over her still eyes. She stared vacantly at the ghostly visage captured in the cool glass. She blinked, refocusing her intense gaze on the reflection, trying to conceive the answers hidden underneath the layers of ivory skin-bruised and etched with lingering blood stains on the chiseled lines of her accentuated cheekbones.

She removed a black eyeliner pencil and carefully applied a smooth stroke of black under the outer corner of her deep-set eyes and ended the line at the corner. She used her finger and smudged the makeup giving it a smoky appearance as swirls of sky blue morphed into molten steel of a savage, firm glare hidden behind disheveled locks of rich auburn. Turning on the soles of her leather tactical boots, she walked to a dresser and lifted up two Russian Kindja knives, carefully placing one of them into pouch strapped over her right thigh and the other slipped inside a strap coiled over her right forearm.

Releasing a silent and compressed breath, Alpha7 narrowed her menacing orbs down and stared intently at a graphite mask carved into a shape of a wolf's face. Her eyes burned with enmity, she lifted up the folder and flipped through the documents-she scanned fiercely over the collection of images of her target-Steven Grant Rogers and darkened her eyes as she studied his smooth cut-stone features and deep turquoise blue eyes for a long moment; she curled her gloved hands into a fist and allowed a light snarl to ghost over her ruby shaded lips.

"I will make it rain crimson in his city and destroy everything this super soldier holds close..." A twisted smirk crossed over her lips and her blue embers glinted in the darkness as she removed a knife and sliced the blade through the photograph, ripping the paper in half. She clutched her mask and held it against the streams of light. "Consider yourself prey, Steve Rogers." She growled darkly in a German accent, withdrawing a step back from the dresser. "When you stare into the eyes of the wolf...You will find yourself staring into the gaze of death, Captain America."

Instinctively she turned, glowering at the door as a Hydra operative stood in the shadows, "Commander," he said with a timid voice, swallowing as her penetrating stare locked directly onto his pulsing jugular. He advanced closer, keeping his distance as he concluded with a weakening tone ragging up his throat. "It's time for to go hunting for American blood."

Commander Alpha7 nodded sharply, and turned around to catch one more glimpse at the folder but an image caught her attention. She furrowed her eyebrows and crouched down, staring at a familiar, young handsome face tucked behind a written document. She read out the name in a wordless tone and felt a sudden clench encase over her heart, "James Buchanan Barnes," she said in a muffled voice, keeping her eyes latched onto the picture as a memory emerged from the dark crevices of tortured and disciplined her mind. "James..." She struggled to expel out her words. "James Barnes." She lowered her misty eyes, looking distant at the image clutched in her shaky hand. "I think I knew him," she faintly revealed, staring deeply into bright blue eyes of the fallen soldier.

* * *

_(Flashback)_

_Violent, blue tinge streaks of lightning flashed throughout the small nook of a bedroom, she felt the soothing heat emanated from his still body as she buried her face into his torso, feeling the rise and fall of his chest lift her head up as tears rolled over the carved muscles. She clamped her eyes shut-sealing the blinding flashes streaming against the window panes. His hand stroked over the curly strands of auburn hair as he pulled her securely against him-blanketing her frail body with his warmth._

_, "Ally," he said in a soft whisper, it like cream to her twisting soul. She reared her head at met his luminous, glinting steel-blue eyes in the darkness. He curved the edges of his full lips into an assuring smile, threading his fingers through the mass of her thick locks of hair._

_James kept his gaze focus on her as the storm outside hastened and the echoes of rain hitting the glass broke the silence. His soft breathing fell against her face like a caress of silk, like a peaceful wave which calmed the distress encroaching over her._

_"James, when will the storm end?" she asked in muffled tone, borrowing her head into the crook of his arm, her nose dug into his elbow as she shivered when a loud sonic boom of thunder vibrated through the walls._

_"It's almost over," he replied, his voice raspy and exhausted. He lowered his head down and brushed his soft lips over her head. "Try to go to sleep."_

_"I can't, James." She sobbed, tears soaked the skin of his arm, falling into the blankets cloaking over her trembling frame and rested her weary head over his abdomen, feeling the pulse of his heart beating against the shell of her ear. She thrashed at the ensnaring covers, unraveling herself as the dread consumed her, She gripped her forearm tightly, squeezing as she slowly lifted her head up, stared at him, her unblinking bluish-grey eyes welled with tears. She broke her lips and choked out a few words. "I'm scared...Please stay with me."_

_James lowered his eyes, lightly he sloped his finger down the ridge of her nose. "Of course...I'm staying here with you. I'm your big brother it's part of the job to protect you." He gave her a faint smirk, trying to calm her down with the softness of his voice. "Now, go to sleep. It's not going to last all night." He dropped a gentle kiss on her gleaming forehead, and then pulled away, his blue eyes dazzling in the darkness as she sniffled and lowered her head down on his mid-section,_

_"I want to brave like you, James." she glared up at her with tear filled eyes. "You're not afraid of anything."_

_"Now, that's not entirely true," James replied, feeling a tug on his heart-strings when he looked deeply into his sister's fearful eyes. He sighed, and brushed a cluster of ringlets behind her ear. 'I am afraid of one thing, Allyson."_

_When he said those words, he felt his heart flutter and stomach churn. His breathing hitched as he allowed his eyes to drift over the shapes of stuff animals scattered across the floor boards, he bit down hard on his lips, digging his teeth in the plump flesh while he fell silent._

_He looked down at his sister, locking his sincere and misty blue eyes with her hooded gaze._

_"James," she murmured extending her small hand as she lightly touched her brother's chiseled jaw He enveloped his hand and held it there while steadying his gaze on her delicate features._

_"I'm afraid that one day I might lose you, Ally." He released his heart's confession with serene words escaping from his vocal cords. He sealed his eyelids tight, blocking off the tear flow. "You're all the family I have...Well you and the skinny runt, Steve Rogers." He leaned the bare planes of his back against the wooden headboard. "I wish I could give you more and try to give a good future..." He paused, feeling a dull ache creep over his rib cage._

_Allyson leaned up; gliding forward as she rubbed her tiny index finger over his Cupid's bow-shaped upper lip, soothing the skin as she tried to create a smile. "You're a good brother." she whispered with a voice of grace. She tilted her head closer and pressed her plush lips over his cheek. "I love you, James Barnes."_

_James' eyes fell shut as he embraced his arms around her, and held her close as the storm faded around them. "And I love you, little sis." he echoed back, feeling her relax against him as she slowly drifted to into a peaceful slumber._

* * *

"Commander," the Hydra operative's gruff and strained voice lulled her back from the relapse of memory, Commander Alpha7 shot instantly up and craned her neck, glowering at the young man dressed in black carbon leather leaning against the door frame. She scowled at him with an inscrutable and intimating glare and curved the edges of her lips into a scolding grimace. "Is everything alright?" he asked in a low voice, watching her muscle coil at his words. "Do you remember these targets?"

"It doesn't matter who the Hell they are," she growled in a vicious, nonchalant voice, seething out air between her clenched teeth. "They both are dead men to me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Steve sat on the edge of the mattress, cringing at silence as darkness crept over his rigid cut-stone features. Nothing stirred. No phone calls from Natasha which always left a soothing ambiance in the air, at least it became the only modern sound he became immune to listening. He still felt unnatural; his existence had become diminished by the condemning guilt of failing to save his best friend, James Barnes from falling off Zola's train. The images still haunted him, twisting his soul into a spindling twine of scorched thread.

_"Bucky," Steve felt his lungs exploding against his rib cage; he gripped the metal side rails, feeling his knuckles tense under the leather gloves. His blue eyes latched on his best friend's face, meeting the crystal azure eyes which filled with fresh tears. He moved slowly against the rattling car and extended out his hand for Bucky to take, "Bucky, take my hand." He yelled in a firm voice against the biting cold lashing over his cheekbones. "Come on, Bucky, take me hand." He clamped his burning eyes shut and heaved out a forceful breath-his heart was racing wildly as he kept his steady gaze settled on Bucky._

_Bucky clung tightly on the metal rod jutting from the car, twisting it with his weight, he tried to reach for Steve's hand, and blood stained his frigid knuckles. He swallowed down a constricting knot of fear. Blood seeped down his chin, as he clenched his teeth and redirected the position of his hand toward Steve. His chest heaved with exhaustion. He sealed his lips into a firm grimace and reached up to grip his friend's waiting hand._

_The deafening sound of the metal loosening made his thudding heart drop and he took one last glance at Steve in that wrenching moment when the rod broke off and he felt himself falling into the icy abyss waiting to swallow his mortality up. He fell into the everlasting winter._

_"No...BUCKY!" Steve thundered, feeling his heart detonate and the world around him scatter into thousands of jaded pieces. He shuddered as he listened to the echoes of his friend drifting further away. He clasped his eyelids shut, and pressed his forehead against the cold steel as he wept silently, knowing that he failed to save the one person who always had been the one who believed in him and never turned his back when other people scuffed away his choices and ridiculous dreams -James Buchanan Barnes-his blood brother and shield from the streets of Brooklyn was now just a memory engraved on the surface of his wounded heart._

_"I'm sorry, Buck." He bawled, feeling his warm tears of anguish crystallize down his face. He felt defeated._

Now, Steve was reaching a standstill, feeling the conversant dull ache as it penetrated against his throbbing rib cage, sometimes he found it agonizing to breathe as his memories were awakened by the same modest and boyish face of his cherished, lifelong friend and one of his Howling Commandos who fought by his side and always had his back when they invaded Hydra's compounds. Those courageous moments, were shared in another lifetime without the division separating him from Bucky.

He blinked, too dazed to care about the world around, everything seemed to become shaded a leaden gray as he managed to glower out the bedroom's window, keeping his cobalt blue eyes focused on the lines of rain streaming down the glass panes, steady drops gathered and faded as he narrowed his head down and clutched the sheets with his tight fists. He blinked again, fighting to release the tears pricking in his eyes, unsure if he should just allow his fragile emotions to betray his stern, commanding and brave demeanor or to finally step out of the bedroom and jump back into his morning routine.

Suddenly, a soft knocking lulled his glistening blue eyes to drift toward the bedroom doorway, his broad muscles coiled with tension, he moved to the closet in haste, pulled on a pair of pants before making a mad dash out of the bedroom, he grabbed his shield leaning against the wall, preparing to ram it into the person who invaded his solitude, and slipped his wrist under the leather straps as he paced down the hall. The thralls of dread churned in his heated veins, heart pumped faster with each systematic stride, passing the black and white photographs of the Howling Commandos and old tarnished posters of Captain America which Agent Phil Coulson left for him from his collection.

He proceeded down the hallway and toward the apartment door, his blue eyes locked on the bronze knob as he surged out a ragged breath and unlocked the door, opening it with his shield leveled with his shoulder. He clamped his jaw and eased his knuckles as he stared at a pair of unyielding hands in front of him.

"Whoa, Cap." came the stunned voice of Sam Wilson as he withdrew an alarming step back from the door. "At ease, soldier."

Steve flicked his austere eyes, "Sam," he digressed in a strained and rough voice, lowering his shield to his side. "What are you doing here?" He spared a glance at his friend with quizzical expression shrouding over his smooth, carved features. Sam stood sternly inches from him in the bath of afternoon light, dressed in a leather jacket and frayed jeans which were torn from a previous workout, with sweat stains to match. His raven hair was drenched from the stale summer heat and chocolate colored eyes gleaming with trust and amiability.

"I came to check up on you," Sam replied, his voice strong and uncharacteristically comforting. "It's almost been two days, Cap." He raked his eyes over Steve's tall, strict posture.

The golden blonde haired super-solider looked better than he had the days before, but there was still distress welled in his steady gaze. His blue eyes narrowed down to the floor, and he released a silent breath, as he shifted his edgy frame against the door, his shoulders twitched and muscles tightening into knots for a still moment.

And there was something else, well, something elusive which he fought to keep veiled. The discovery of Bucky Barnes existence had left him dishearten...making him...silent. There was a faint glistening line of wetness streaking down his smooth face, Sam guessed it was from the muggy humid air, somehow he felt his veins ripple with dismay as he inched closer to his distraught friend.

Steve kept his lips sealed together in a firm line, he allowed his watery gaze to drift at the shafts of light streaming from the window. He barred his teeth and clenched his jaw tightly enough for Sam to stare at the indentation of his jawbone as a pained grimace etched over his face. "I'm fine," he growled, scowling his lips into a remorseful frown. "I'm just figuring out where to begin..." He paused, taking a step back and tried to cover his ashamed and solemn face, trying to hide the guilt and hatred from his new and trusting friend. He really didn't want Sam to him like this, so defeated and sickly looking from the haunting truth that stared him in the face around the wreckage of smashed vehicles-no, he always wanted to show strength and resilience, not the grimness of failure. It unnerved him.

"You haven't been answering your phone for two days...I was starting to get concerned." Sam's voice droned in his ears, his sharp eyes eclipsed with wariness masking over his rich brown orbs.

"You need to stop worrying about me..." Steve grumbled in response trying to assure him with ease. "I know how to handle things on my own."

Sam sighed out a shaky exhale, trying to hold a firm gaze as he met the indestructible blue eyes of Steve Rogers, his voice sounded a little raw. "This guy, whoever you claim him to be, has killed government officials and assassinated a lot of good people." He paused in his words, trying to gather more air into his lungs as he dropped his head down. "I know you think he's your best friend, maybe he once was but you need to understand that his just a weapon...A machine ordered to kill. You cannot just walk up to him on the street and pretend he's your friend. He will kill you, Cap, because that what's he's been conditioned to my friend."

Steve felt his grip on the shield's straps tighten. He stood motionless and stared at him; a dark, tumultuous look engulfed his gaze in the shafts of light.

"He tried to kill you." Sam reminded him.

Steve's face instantly darkened with a disgruntled look, he lowered a hard stare at the paper firmly gripped in his hand. "I know he's James Barnes," he replied with a hint of malice laced in his low tone. He felt a dismal breath ghost over his lips. "I know the risks of pulling this thread, Sam. Bucky is my friend and I will not lose him again not when there is a window of a chance to restore what Hydra has stolen from me." he gritted.

Sam shook his head minutely, "You can't blame yourself for what happened to him, Cap." He placed his hand firmly on Steve's tensed shoulder. "The paper I gave to you at the hospital has the location of one of Hydra's safe house located within the regions of the city." He gave Steve a concerned frown as he glanced down at his hand shaking over the wrinkled paper. "I can't guarantee that Bucky will be there...but it's worth a shot."

Steve nodded sharply; he parted his lips and drew out a cleansing exhale as he looked intensely at his gleaming shield. "And I'm taking it." he mustered up a fierce growl, his defiant blue eyes burned with wells of hope as he fastened his lips into a tight line and declared out his heart-wrenching vow with a single breath escaping from his fervid lungs. "I will find him and this time I will not let him go."

Sam returned the nod and half smiled, "You sound like a man on mission, Cap." he said, removing his hand gently off of Steve's shoulder. "When do we start?"

Steve felt the edges of his smooth, plush lips slack up into a faint smile as he looked intently down at the address, feeling a soothing ease brush over his heart. "Suit up, Falcon" he ordered, sucking in a breath and he met Sam's dark eyes." We've got a soldier to bring back home."


	6. Chapter 6

**{+ Chapter 6 +}**

* * *

There was no soothing warmth of sunlight to greet her alabaster skin, no radiant color for her shadowy bluish-gray eyes to capture or deep, shallow breaths of contentment escaping from her lungs. All she saw was the ambiance of dingy darkness when she sat in deathly silence in the passenger seat of a black van parked near an airstrip and shadowed by a massive Russian cargo plane.

Her intense and foreboding stare was veiled by black smoky eye shadow that the dissolved the sky blue out of her irises as a silver hue swirled around her diluted pupils. She pressed her tensed shoulder blades into the leather, acutely listened to the unsteady pulse of the driver. The young, short dark haired rookie operative parted his lips and released shallow breaths. Sensing the consternation flowing in his veins, she curled the sharp edges of her lips into a wolfish grin while her eyes became slits, just enough for him to see the diamond shaped pupils gather a speck of light to reveal a tight of blue under the shadows masking over her changeless stare.

"You are new?" she growled low and abrasive, glancing down at the beads of sweat sloping over the spaces of his knuckles. Her chilling voice made the young operative shudder against his seat. She listened to him swallow down his distress. "What is your name?"

Feeling her harden glare bury deep in his skull, he belligerently raised his head and met her stone-like eye. "It's Daniel, Commander." he answered with a timid voice. "I cannot remember my surname." he unveiled his mind registering that his thoughts were wavered by blank pulses and faint commanding words of his superiors. The words were alerted by a metallic, droning sound of her knife tapping against the dashboard. Turning his head away, he looked down at the steering wheel. "That's all I can remember."

The commander gave him a short nod, stiffening her ruby shaded lips into firm, vacant line. She kept her merciless, ominous glower locked with his light green orbs. «How long have you been with us, Daniel? Did you receive training and have successful missions?" she spoke with a raspy German accent.

Trying to focus on the buttons on the said of the wheel instead of the dangerous commander and her soulless eyes, he closed his eyes tight and allowed his sweaty fingers to clutch over the steering wheel, feeling the coldness waver off of her body and penetrate in his bones.

A low vibration and an untamed growl of a wolf, "I asked you a question."

"Six months, Commander... My induction was two weeks before." Daniel answered with a weak, cracking voice. "It happened after I successful terminated a target in Cairo. The Director was pleased with my effective methods." He snapped his sullen eyes up met her icy gaze. "I'm not like you, Commander. You are a legend to Hydra-every recruit that trains under the mark of this new order of power wishes to have your skills, Alphtraum."

Alpha7 raised her eyebrow and growled, leaning forward, the intensely of her gaze molten. "Do not call me by that name." she digressed out a frosty warning, peeling back her lips and baring her teeth. "Only my superiors call me that name. Not rookies, unless you want to see how I got that name first hand." she threatened.

The darkness of her words sent a jolt through his body; he wrenched his eyes away and focused his gaze on the cargo plane. "Forgive me, Commander," he replied with a broken tone. "I did not mean to inflict this onto you." he apologized levelly at her." I acted out of line."

Undaunted, she recoiled back and pulled over her leather gloves. "Alphtraum means nightmare in German translation. It is a name my victim's families gave to me after I left blood stains of their loved ones on the walls." she added with a low, wicked growl, it sounded almost like a cold brush of winter. "When I was given that name years back I embraced and used to instill terror for Hydra."

Daniel looked at her dead in the eye and felt his lips alter a frown. "Do you question the Director's orders?" he tentatively asked.

"No," She placed the graphite wolf mask over her face and he watched the young and beautiful woman became veiled by a dangerous, elusive semblance of the lethal, unbreakable and cold assassin.

Alpha7 opened the door, the pieces of serrated metal emerged from the leather covering her knuckles, and she pressed the soles of her combat boots on the slick ground. She rubbed her fingers against the metal door and solely glared back at him, her eyes never blinked as she stared predatory at his jugular vein pumping with heavy streams of blood. She lowered her head and allowed him only to see the whiteness of her eyes under the darkness of the mask. "Wir hinterfragen nie unsere Aufträge. Wir tragen sie bis zum Ende der Mission."

Listening to him sigh, she felt an unfamiliar dull ache twist her rib cage, scoffing the pain away she slammed the door and advanced closer to the plane ramp in methodical strides, everyone cautiously parted from her presence. She scanned her eyes briefly over the team of armored operatives standing pliant and motionless with sniper rifles and sub-machine guns strapped to their bulletproof carbon-Kevlar bodies.

The young commander paused in her strides and spun on her boots, staring directly as a tall bald headed man who gave her a simple nod.

"Die Mission ist einfach. Töte den Super-Soldat und bringen seine kalte Leiche Hydra." she ordered with a dark, firm voice. "Jeder wird ein Ziel elimate haben .. Aber Captain America ist meine." Scowling, she withdrew a step back and roved her concealed eyes over her strike team. "Müll diese Ordnung und ich werde einen zweiten, Sie zu töten nicht verschwenden."

"Commander?" the bald head operative invaded her space. "One of Hydra's main assets who they call the Winter Soldier failed to complete the mission of eliminating Captain America under the orders of Alexander Pierce."

Blue eyes blazing under the slits of the mask, she lifted her gloved hand closer to his thick jaw. "I am aware of that, soldier. The Director has made his orders for us to termite both the First Avenger and the rogue will make it rain with their blood on the streets of America...After I feel their hearts cease to beat I will gut them out for Hydra to taste."

"How will you lure them out of hiding?" he choked on his words. "The Winter Soldier is off Hydra's radar and Steve Rogers is mending his battle wounds."

She scowled even deeper, calculating a plot. «How does a wolf lure a rabbit out of its hole?"

"By putting a dead one outside of it, Commander?"

"Steve Rogers has many friends-that is his weakness. In order for us to get him at vulnerable spot we first must hunt down those closest to him." she hissed with spite before stepping away from him and moving up the plane's ramp while muttering, "I will not fail this mission, Hydra."

* * *

Through the haze of summer heat, Natasha swiped the back of her head over her gleaming brow. She had become a hot and sweaty mess, traveling the back routes of the America desert on a Harley Davidson bike she compromised from a biker's hangout, her sleek, long legs began to feel the prickling numbness and lips were covered with chalky dryness. She maneuvered the bike on a narrow road; gloved fingers clutched the handles as she accelerated through the dust and made a halt in front of an empty ranch house. Dismounting off the saddle, she pulled off the helmet and allowed waves of straight iron scarlet to the cascade over her tone, rigid shoulders.

Inhaling sharply the stale summer heart, Natasha quickly rolled her grayish-emerald colored eyes over the area. It was ridiculous for her to feel out of her natural element of suburbia, but sacrificing was necessary to survive. "Well, it's not a much of place but it's a necessary haven." she growled under her breath, stiffening her lips and removing a backpack from her shoulders and took out a bottled water. Twisting the plastic off, she poured the water in the palm of her cupped hand and dabbed her scorched skin with a light dab. She focused her eyes on the screen door and drew out an irritable breath before sauntering up the wooden steps.

Pressing the COM lodged in her ear, she spoke dryly, "Maria, I made it the location of the safe house. I have admit that's better than other's Fury sent me too, needs a woman's touch though..." she admitted while grasped the door handle, her heel boots clicked on the creaky boards as she took a moment and stared down at her leather gloved hands. "I'm going off-line; you can reach me with a secure number on my phone."

"That's not necessary, Natasha," Maria Hill's voice chimed in her ear drum. "This is a secure sync designed by Tony Stark. No one can triangulate your location."

Natasha shrugged, clenching her jaw. "I'm not risking having this safe house compromised by Hydra's rouge agents and most importantly, I'm not risking having your life threaten if they manage to break through our secured frequency, Maria." she gritted her teeth. "Technology no matter how good it is cannot be trusted. Not when we're on a brink of a fallout war with international terrorism breathing down our necks." She discharged with an edge in her low voice, her eyes down at the door mat, and carefully she crouched on her knees and grabbed the key. "Everything that we fight for will mean nothing if Hydra's rogue's discover a way to break through the world's security and turns it against us."

"Do you want me to locate the Avengers?" Maria implied.

"No," Natasha breathed, placing the key in a hole and flicking her wrist as the door unlocked. She removed a loaded gun from a strap hostler wrapped over her thigh and advanced cautiously inside the darkened house, staring at splotches of amber light painted on the walls. "We need to keep everyone under the radar until we have our full strength. Steve reminds in Manhattan searching for Bucky Barnes, Clint and Doctor Banner are in Africa, Thor is London with Jane Foster and Tony is rebuilding his life. I'm suck out here trying to maintain my own security while I figure out our next move."

"You're not alone in this fight, Nat." Maria reminded her. "Remember you've friends in high places."

"Thanks' for the reminder, Maria," Natasha felt the corners of her lips tug into a smirk, she lowered her weapon and stalked further into the opened room, trying to rake away images of Steve out of her mind. He was her partner, a friend -nothing else. Having him consume her thoughts made her emotions become vulnerable and lose focus on the mission. She needed freedom from his sincere, righteous and deep cobalt eyes and those soft lips. She needed to find herself once again in the dark webs she weaved with every glimpse of her grim past and allow the lethal, Black Widow to emerge out of her hiding place. "I know how to work alone and I don't need anyone to watch my back."

She pulled the COM out of her ear and held it against her lips and spoke in a firm whisper, "Natasha out." she stuffed the tiny device in the pocket of her jeans.

* * *

"How many safe houses are located in the city," Steve digressed with an edge rattling through his vocal cords. He folded his broad arms over his stiff chest. He wilted his rigid posture against the tailgate of a metallic blue Ram truck, his alloy shield fastened against his back as the buckled leather straps rested on the span of his brawny shoulders. Dressed in his dark blue embossed uniform with the silver star and red stripes. Steve pressed his full, smooth lips into a firm line and locked his severe cobalt eyes on a condemned apartment complex. He sighed out a breath of heated vexation. He stared intently at rows of broken windows, spray-painted brownstone and heaps of trash gathering against a dented fence."Everything time we come close to find his location and just leads to another dead end. This isn't a location I would expect HYDRA operatives to stash themselves away from the naked eye." He breathed out his frustration again, glanced over his shoulder and became irritably annoyed by the sound of crinkling tissue paper. He trained his irked blue eyes and stared at a greasy full-loaded cheeseburger grasped in Sam's hand. "How can you eat that when we're out in the open dressed in our gear? Not to mention there's rats the size of alley cats glaring right at us?" he asked, shooting his new and trusted friend with a inscrutable look.

Sam shrugged, taking a massive bite as grease and mustard stained his chin. He swallowed and then spoke, "I can only go so long on a empty stomach." He took another, relishing the tasted of grizzled beef melting over his lips. He lowered the burger down and looked at Steve with worry masking over his deep brown eyes. "You sure you don't one?"

Steve minutely shook his head; he narrowed his glum blue eyes to his black leather boots, he suppressed the urge of hungry and curled his lips into tight a grimace. He felt the tension constricting in his stomach, bile threatening to crawl up the walls of his dry throat. He was stubborn and kept his lips stiff."I'm not hungry. My stomach is churning in knots because I'm stressed. I need to focus on the mission. Nothing else."

"You look like you're going to fall over." Sam bit out, with an edge of concern in his voice. He reached for a cluster of salted fries and grabbed a handful. "You've been through a lot but don't make yourself sick over this, Steve." He offered his hand. "Just take a few fries and one bite of the burger. That's all I ask."

Smiling faintly, Steve locked a skeptical gaze on the fast food, he kept his body positioned with guarded stance and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not sure if it's safe to eat something like that, it's not the same cheeseburger I remember having when I was a scrawny kid." he replied with an even tone, pursing his lips into a stiff line. "I hardly ate much because of my asthma problems... That damned illness prevented me from enjoying the good stuff that Brooklyn diners had to offer before the depression period."

Sam groaned and rolled his dark eyes, and blew out a short breath. "Stop talking and eat." he chastised. "We're not moving until you put at least one fry into your mouth, Captain Rogers."

"Alright," Steve deadpanned out a breath, he glanced at Sam's dark gray and black vest underneath the leather jacket and strapped over a plain muted gray shirt. He wore bicep guards and a pair of camouflage patterned pants with the U.S flag emblem and shin guards. A pair of black boots were done up tightly, and his flight backpack and goggles were on the back seat in the truck. Shaking his hand, he grabbed a fry and chewed off a bite sized piece. "Okay, I'll admit it does taste a little good." he said with a hard grimace twisting into a weak rueful grin. He markedly markedly surveyed the area and then snapped his sincere deep blue eyes back to Sam and drew out a weak sigh. "I'm trying to adapt to this modern world, Sam. It just doesn't feel like home anymore. Everything I remembered about this city is just a memory that keeps on fading away until it never existed in the first place." he grumbled with a nonchalant tone ragging up his raw throat.

Sam leaned further back against the tailgate, crumpling the yellow tissue paper into a ball and stuffing it back into the bag. "Let me guess, this assassin friend of yours, Bucky Barnes is the only person from the past you have left?"

"Bucky is more than a friend to me. He's like my protective big brother." Steve answered with a brush of cadence in his low voice. His cobalt irises hazed with despondence as he absently caressed his gloved fingers over the blue painted steel. He parted his lips, releasing a deep, dry breath. "He was the only one who believed in a skinny little punk when others didn't and he taught me how to never give up the fight even when the bullies had me on the ropes-"

* * *

Flashback

* * *

_"Hey," Bucky growled seizing the boy's wrist and force him into the wall, twisting his arm and making the bones crack and holding his face against moldy brownstone, pinning him down with his weight. He locked his fiery blue eyes on the pocket knife clutched in the thug's stubby hand; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the stain of blood on serrated edge of the blade. He gnashed his teeth together and squeezed the wrist which made the knife drop to the ground. He parted his lips and drew out a deep breath as he looked down at Steve slowly rearing up to his feet._

_"It's always a game with you jerks." he hissed, contorting the arm against the brick and over the boy's shoulder. "You pick on the little guy, beat him and go home to mama without a scratch on your fat ass." He whispered into his ear, lifting the sharp weapon from the ground and holding it inches from his eyes. "I'm going to release and drop the knife and you are going to scam unless you want to see how I use a knife. Do I make myself clear, jerk?" Bucky growled at him with a menacing voice._

_"Why are you defending the runt?" the boy shot back in a grunt, looking down at Steve with a disgusted looked shadowing over his thick features. He managed to wiggle his arm out of Bucky's tight grasp. "He's nothing but a weak, little gutter stray."_

_Bucky took an involuntarily step back, being careful and slow as he demonstrated the control of the situation and when stared at the thug stepping from the wall, he dropped the knife on the ground._

_"Scram, kid." He spoke with an unyielding voice, he shook his head and turned his back and moved to Steve with a hardened gaze before he smirked, twisted his slender frame around and rammed a fist into the boy's jaw, making his opponent crash his body against a trash can. "That's for calling my pal, a gutter stray." he advanced closer and kicked his boot into the boy's backside. "That was for anything else-now pick up your ass and high tail it out of here."_

_The boy quickly regained his balance and staggered backwards as Bucky intimidatingly cracked his knuckles._

_"Do yourself a favor, kid. Never pick on a boy with health problems again. He might have someone stronger and better equipped than you watching his back..." he smirked cockily._

_The thug nodded frantically, swiping his sleeve over his bloodily nose, and then he sprinted out of the alley._

_Bucky lifted his jaw defiantly with a broad smile crossing over his lips; he turned and watched Steve limp his way over to the stairway. "Dammit Steve," he lightly shook his head. "I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do you ever listen?" he glared down at a frail and pale Steve Rogers sitting on the bottom step of the stairwell, blood dripped from his nostrils and the arch of his upper lip was split into a red gash. "What happened this time, punk?"_

_"That bully was trying to mess up a soldier's grave." Steve swiped the back of his bony hand under his nose, wiping away the stick blood from his skin. "I tried to stop him and I became the one they messed up, Buck."_

_Bucky blew out a frustrated breath; he crouched down on his knees. "Well, I've seen you look worse," he drawled with his rich Brooklyn accent, placing his hand on Steve's knee. "You need to stop pretending that you're a hero-I know that your heart was in its place when you stopped that jerk from ruining an old soldier's grave but whatever is buried underneath isn't there anymore. It's just a shell of a good man who wore a uniform to fight the big bullies." He removed his shirt off his sweaty, graven chest and used the material to dab the blood off of Steve's bruised cheekbone while he met the young blonde-haired boy's vivid blue eyes._

_"Do you know what he called me, Buck," Steve said with growl in his weak voice, his body began to shake with repressed anger. «A skinny little nobody." He lowered his head down, and screwed his eyes shut. "A sick little runt."_

_"Hey," Bucky whispered in a soothing voice, he placed his large hand firmly on Steve's thin shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze over the jutting bones. "When I look you, I don't see a skinny, sickly looking nobody." he remarked with his brightest voice, carefully dabbing the material of his shirt over Steve's bruised and gaunt jaw line. "In fact you are stronger than you know, so don't go beating yourself up because some jerk probably from Jersey made you think you're nothing."_

_Steve lifted his head and gave his friend a lopsided smirk. "I don't know where I'd be with you, Buck." His solemn gaze fell to his grime covered knuckles._

_"Probably dead and stuffed in alley with a damn trash can lid clutched in your hand." he curved his lips into a cocky grin; patting Steve's scuffed up knee. "It's a good thing you've got me to watch your back, little punk."_

_"You forgot about little Allyson," Steve reminded Bucky of his little sister, with a broad smile. "She's a little tough Brooklyn spitfire."_

_"I know," Bucky dropped his gaze slightly down, sighing out a disheartened breath, "Ally is still just a kid-I've taught her the ropes of surviving the streets, but I didn't teach her everything when they locked her in that damn home for girls." He clenched his jaw, stiffing the lingering baby fat over his sharp cheekbones. "They told me that I wasn't suitable in their books to raise my own sister." His full lips slacked into a glimmer of a grimace. "That I couldn't be trusted -hell, what do their dense minds know, I'm still her big brother and I will see her anytime I want."_

_Steve winced; though his upper lip was slightly split open he managed to say, "When are you planning to see her?" He asked, hissing in pain, his thin arm cradled over his chest. "Do those dames even allow you to visit with her, Buck?"_

_Bucky shrugged with a casual grin playing on his lips. "On the weekends, but I manage to sneak on the roof when they're sleeping and star gaze with her. She loves spending time with me." He narrowed his eyes slightly down to his knees, feeling the guilt simmer in his veins. "She's being looked after and that's all that matters to me...Besides I've got you to deal with, punk." He coyly cocked up one of his eyebrows._

_Steve ran his frail hand through his short golden hair, His face pale and full of discomfort. "I haven't decided if I should feel honored or guilty."_

_Bucky smiled, ruffling his friend's hair. "Knowing your righteous ass, probably guilty." he brisked at him with a low tone._

_He gave Bucky a lopsided, bashful smirk. "Thanks for your kind words, Buck."_

_"Hey, that's what friends of for, little punk." He lightly punched Steve's shoulder, hoping the skin wouldn't bruise his blue eyes bright with brotherly tenderness._

_Steve nodded with a cozy smile, "Friend till the end, big jerk?"_

_"No, Steve," Bucky replied in a soft brush of sure but truthful words, he placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, jerking him slightly. __"Brothers until the end..."_

* * *

Blinking the images out of his feverish blue eyes, Steve gritted his teeth as he felt the remorse simmer under his skin. "It's my fault you know. I caused Bucky to feel the pain. I think he's trying to remember." He took another fry out of Sam's hand. His stomach whirled with heavy flows of acid and his brow gleamed with humid and sickening sweat. "I made him become the Winter Soldier by allowing his body to fall into Zola's hands."

"You know, that's not true." Sam stepped closer. "After surviving the mission Project Insight, you know that is a damn lie and you're allowing yourself to take the blame for something that was out of your control. Bucky fell off the train not because you failed—no it was because he made his choice to not to take your hand, and because of that choice. He lives for HYDRA."

That was harsh. He didn't know how to react and the words escaping from Sam's lips were not break his spirit down, but to finally make him understand that everything he did to save Bucky Barnes wasn't a burden of failure to carry with him—it was the truth, painful and cold but necessary to hear. He took a long moment and recollected his emotions. "I know you're trying to make this situation lighter, but the more I dig deeper in the truth it becomes darker, to a point where it consumes my grief." He returned.

Sam sighed softly, "Do you ever think that this new mission you've placed on yourself is to restore your guilt?" Steve lifted his head, his eyes glistening with wetness. "They screwed him up bad. He is a asset. I have a feeling he doesn't want to be saved." He looked sadly at Steve, afraid and worried about his friend's life."What if you fail to save him? You know he won't stop."

"I'm doing this for Bucky. Not because he's my friend but I made a promise. I will save him." Steve fired back. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He didn't want to feel the pressure growing in his chest, the shattering sense of disbelief that harbored him into another abyss of despair. "I need to help him regain the memories HYDRA stole from him. He's always been more than a friend to me, he's my brother. You think I'm just going let him disappear again without knowing that truth?"

Sam leaned his back against the right tail light, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. His face narrowed as he released a long exhale. "We've a got three more locations to recover. I'm not saying that we have a chance to find him-if we do its small." he quietly admitted. "Do you think he knows his name?"

Steve released a slow breath. Bucky reacted to his name when his metal fist was inches from smashing vicious into his bloodied and swollen face. Obviously the assassin responded to the familiar tone of his surrendering voice, but that frightened and disturbed look in his teary blue eyes that burned with controlled rage unveiled to him in that second off tasting a drop of warm blood run over his lips, the man beneath the layers of the tortured shell of the heartless and merciless killer was still present inside. If he hadn't said the name, in the final moment of their fight, then Bucky would have taken his life, completed his mission and eventually fall allowed his broken form to fall on his knees at the feet of HYDRA.

The damage of those illusions he forced back into the recess of his mind, left him torn...Steve felt like a captive as blood drained from his cheeks and images of a twisted and tortured Bucky Barnes strapped on Zola's table replayed. He didn't want to see his best friend fade, and there was a tiny possibility that he was going to restore Bucky from what Hydra and Zola had stolen within those years of being subjected to pain and ice. And he was going to make the ghost become flesh and blood again.

Sam read over the pain etched on Steve's smooth and chiseled face. He placed his hand on the super-soldier's shoulder and allowed the silence to rest behind them, "You know that we'll have to take him out. I have a high dose of sedative that will do the job quickly in case he gets hostile and case he tries to kill you."

Steve fell silent; a frown crept over his lips. "I refuse to see him as a threat." He narrowed his eyes to the ground. "I will take him out if that becomes the only option to get him to come with us."

"Okay." Sam agreed. He slammed the tailgate shut and moved to the driver's side door. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long and exhausting night."

"Yes. It's not going to be easy." Steve glanced at him, grabbing his helmet from the back and walked to the passenger side door and spoke with a broken voice, "But that's what happens when a friend is in trouble."

"Well, I hope you friend doesn't use us as midnight target practice." Sam replied dryly, before sliding down on the seat and started the engine.

Steve lifted his blue eyes to the ashen tarnished sky and whispered faintly, "He won't."

* * *

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," A shadowy and hoarse breath ghosted over his chapped lips, his gloved hands buried deep in the pockets of his tattered jeans. His gaunt, ashen face hidden by a brimmed baseball cap with the emblem of the New York Yankees. The Winter Soldier walked stealthily towards a back alleyway stairway, leading him to a familiar safe house. He tucked the collar of his leather jacket against the exposed skin of his neck, lumbering up the steps with his heavy combat boots thumping over the creaking wood as he reached for the door handle of the balcony with his metal alloy hand.

Removing a lock pick from a pocket of his black jeans, he carefully unlocked the door and slipped inside the ambiance of the darkened apartment. Cautiously, he moved in stealth through the empty space in systematic strides, intensely scanning his feral, dispirited azure colored eyes over the heaps of tarps, spray painted symbols of Hydra marked in red on the grime covered walls. He knew it wasn't home.

Inhaling the stench of collected dust, he allowed his heavy boots to unconsciously carry his weight towards the kitchen area, crushing over shards of scattered glass on the floor, boards, he advanced in clandestine movements closer to a rounded shaped table, dragging out a chair and lowered his aching body down against the wooded furnishing. He removed the cap off his head, undoing the rubber band coiled over his matted strands of dark, sweat-drenched chestnut and allowed the straggly drapes to loosely fall over his broad, knife-edge cheekbones and his heavy, bristled covered jaw line.

He was caught in crossfire of orders and discipline. His gun rested on a scuffed up table in front of him. He weathered frame sat in the dark with patience, he was a wraith, soundless and controlled by the endless buzzing of pulses in his clouded mind-the colors of crimson-the screams of all the victims he destroyed because of order-and the invisible shock collar they placed on him every time he was granted freedom to complete his mission.

_Mission report, soldier._

The droning sounds of Alexander Pierce's strong and relentless voice echoed in his ears, he sat at the table, the blades of his shoulders dug into the wooded poles of the chair, he absently drummed his metal fingers on the edge of the table to interrupt the torrent clusters of thoughts ravaging through his mind all at once. He gripped the denim of his jeans, holding the firm material in a tight clutch.

He wanted to unleash screams of anguish as the thralls of savage impulses engulfing his will-power, the coldness of his superiors orders lulling him further into a darken abyss of chaos. Everything was scraping against his mind, grinding the thoughts of his existence into ash. He pressed his fist into the center of his chest, feeling the constriction of bones twist-every throb felt like a hammer pounding over his rib cage. He screwed his eyelids shut, the amber light became atrocious, he was starting to develop a headache, the pressure tantalized in his skull until he could hardly hear the sounds all him. He rocked his body against the chair, inhale the stale stench of summer heat as his brow gleamed with feverish sweat.

Instinctively, he peeled his eyes open, scanning the obstructive area of the small kitchen and he curved the edges of his vacant, pouty lips into a fierce grimace, listening to the agonizing sounds folding around him, there were hordes of people walking on the sidewalks, tires screeching at stoplights, people taking on mobile phones and listening to loud music with their headphones lodge in their ears. It became percussive torture, making him feel like his ears were bleeding. Everything combined into an orchestration of unpleasant, invasive noise, and the Winter Soldier found himself sitting displaced and rigid with tension, unwilling to move away -he became numb and conflicted with thoughts of his missions. The acceptable resilience of following every command, word and threat weaved together in the murky recesses of his mind. He tried to rake away the memories of his missions and targets but the hold on him invaded into a configuration of guilt. He literally felt like he was wearing the inside out.

"The mission was a failure." he vocalized in robotic sync into the humid breeze, confusion warred his thoughts as he fought to regain his strength, grabbing hold of the coffee cup. He felt the heat emit into his bones and released a shallow and unsteady breath. "The target, Captain America survived."

He snapped his murderous blue eyes down, creasing his brow and looked at the cracks engraved of the cement pad underneath his leather combat boots.

Fiercely, he clenched his chiseled jaw, gritting his teeth as his hand gripped the serrated metal plates of his bionic arm, he wanted to rip it out of the socket-expose the intricate circuitry of Doctor Armin Zola. He wanted to cut the wires, make the robotic limp become limp and immobile.

He craved to disarm himself, to have no more images of Hydra decoded in his skin. His fingers rubbed over the contortion of the plates as he heaved out an abysmal growl rumbling from the back of his raw throat and tried to pry his arm off, but he was rendered powerless and weakened by the truth that he would die from the amount of blood loss. Instead he tore his hand away and refocused his glowering eyes on the empty tables around him.

This array of confusion was unnatural to him, it wasn't a safe haven to seek refuge from the pain-it was mixture of darkness and light-human weakness and error interwoven by the threads of systematic failures, distrust and corrosive structures of order and disorder. He had trained his mind to block out all the frailty around him and allowed himself to become numb with coldness to the human touch. He was molded into a vacant, cold and soulless killer-excruciating innocent lives who were disagreeable and unmovable to Hydra's plan of reformation to create a new world order, even if they had to stain the solid ground of the blood of their victims.

He was forced against his own will-his own mortality to become one of the chosen ones who sacrificed his blood, freedom and heart for Hydra's will to dominate the world. His soul was butchered countless times until he became as cold as winter's ice and hollow as gunmetal steel.

Now, he had been liberated from the icy prison, given a chance of redemption and a new a mission to find the true man underneath the iron surface of the Winter Soldier. He broke his gaze away from darkness and red symbols and continued to stare icily at the weapon gleaming in the dim street light in front of him.

The Winter Soldier's forlorn gaze deteriorated downward, and sloppy dark tresses of hair fell over his brow, "James Buchanan Barnes," he muddled out with a shaky, baited breath. He creased his eyebrow, searching and grasping a memory from the caverns of torture in his mind. He parted his lips and allowed the words to roll off his tongue. His blue eyes widened and jaw dropped as he let out a straggling breath. "That is my name." he choked, slamming his metal fist into the wood of the table. "That's impossible. I-I can't be him." he roared, gritting his teeth and scarped upper row of teeth over his bottom lip."The man fell off the train and died. He doesn't exist."

He lurched to his feet, knocked the chair over with the force of his bionic arm and crashed to his knees, slamming his fists into the floor. He broke apart his lips and unleashed a scream of anguish, feeling his soul rip into pieces."James Barnes is dead!"


	7. Chapter 7

**[+ Chapter 7 +]**

* * *

Everything went numb in his body. Steve tried to ignore the smoldering remorse simmering in his veins, but it became consuming to ease away. He had been chasing ghosts, infiltrating safe houses located in dark places of the city, saving a little two-year old girl from an apartment fire and smashing through glass.

His stealth uniform reeked with the stench of ash and gasoline, the light padded material of his shoulders torn and his chin was a mess of scrapes that etched deep into the youthful skin and allowed thin lines of blood to seep out. He'd grown to become use to feeling pain from his fair share of injuries in the past, but tonight the pain wasn't physical, but emotional. He was prepared to throw his helmet down and walked away, he deserve to find Bucky, not after he failed in that split condemning second when he reached for the young sergeants hand. He'd spent two days after the siege of Zola's train in the snowy Alps, sitting in desolated room of an abdomen farm house, drowning his lungs with whiskey as tears of anguish flowed down his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, drinking his sorrow away. He never got drunk.

Hope seemed to be dwindling out of him, sighing out the humid air collected in his raw lungs, Steve advanced down a back alley. His leather boots sloshed in the clusters of puddles as he moved closer to the last location of HYDRA's safe houses. He felt pressure in his chest, a greasy contortion of malice and exhaustion gathered on the bones of his rib cage. It became harder for him to breathe, his vision swam as foggy images of dark figures invaded his mind and voice of Armin Zola tortured him with German taunts of with Bucky's name in the middle of the toxic laced webs of HYDRA's darkness. He fell deeper into the nightmares and delusions his wounded soul conceived.

_Inside Zola's inhumane laboratory in the green haze of light, he found a captured Bucky Barnes strapped down flat on an operating table, handsome face of youth was pale and gleaming with sickness. His eyes diluted with a fresh layer of tears masking over the clear warmth of his crystal blue embers of unbreakable fire. His full lips swollen with lash marks on the edges, smudges of blood encased over his sharp cheekbones and his 5'11 form shivered with coldness. He managed to look at Steve, trying to reach out for him with every ounce of his strength. "Steve," he slurred with a damaged voice, curling his lips into a bright smile. "I knew you would come..." He paused in a breath, blood leaked from his quivering mouth. "You need to save yourself. Get the hell out of here...I don't want to see you in pain."_

_"I'm not leaving without you, Buck." Steve replied in a breathless voice, he placed his gloved hand over the young soldier, sweat-drenched brown hair. "A captain never leaves a soldier behind, Sergeant James Barnes." he grounded out with a stern look in his vivid blue eyes._

_Bucky swallowed and shook his head and squirmed under the leather straps crossed over his chest. "You gotta bail out of here," he coughed, fighting to break free from the restraints pinning him against metal. Tears stained the lines of grime over his face. "I know what want to do with you, Steve. You gotta get out of here."_

_Steve refused to move from the table, he unhooked the straps and placed his hand firmly on Bucky's shoulder. "I will not leave you behind. You're my friend...My best friend, Bucky Barnes."_

_"And you're too dumb to listen," Bucky said softly, smiling faintly. He wrapped his arms around the broad span of Steve's shoulders and lifted himself up. "I'm glad you looked back when you did..." He sobbed lightly, trying to regain his defiance. "Nough with the waterworks, let's get the hell out of here before Zola and his loyal German dogs discover your ass."_

_Steve embraced his friend with a light squeeze of his arms, and helped him balance on the floor. "I hope this is the last time I ever have to save you."_

_Bucky blinked the tears out of his eyes and gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah me too."_

Steve bashed those images, allowing the pained tears to leak out of his deep blue eyes, He regained his strength and strode further into the shadows allowing the splotches of the moonlight to light up the way towards the apartment. His heart pounded, a heavy pulse of hope surged in his veins, he knew that Bucky was there waiting in the darkness to be taken back home.

* * *

The hums of the cargo plane gave no comfort from the mindless division surging inside of her. Commander Alpha7, tilted her head back against the metal and silted her eyes shut underneath the hollow graphite of her mask. Sweet vibrations of the turbine engines kept her mind stable as the blood in her veins grew hot, the inhumane serum encased every fiber of her body.

She blinked the haze out of her eyes, and stared at the armed men surrounding her, dressed in severe black Kevlar and carbon leather with the emblem of Hydra patched on their left shoulders. The mark of their king, the symbol they sacrificed the blood in their veins to preserve by slaying all the people who opposed its power of global restoration by stripping off the ashes of failure humanity.

* * *

Flashback

* * *

_Blood collected underneath her nails. The sound of straggling breath was echoing in her ears, making the impulses grew stronger and uncontrollable to escape from the carnal nature searing deep in her bones. The target was a German scientist Hans Alexander Sholtzen, a father of three and a professor, but she saw him as a target for elimination not a compassionate human being. He was nothing to her, just another blood stain to wipe off the floor. She retracted her metal claws over his jugular, her masked face shadowed over his trembling lips. She inhaled the stench of fear pouring out of him. She was in the middle of her kill, feverish blue eyes locked on the thin drop of blood escaping from where she made the cut. Her eyes were daunting white orbs of dread under the darkness of the semblance of the graphite wolf face. Her gloved hand wrapped over his thin rail neck, squeezing the pulse out of him as he wilted against the wall, grasping for heavy gulps of air against the leather collar of her stealth jacket. "Where is the cortex cube?" she growled against his ear._

_The professor's eyes were dark and fading with each breath she forced out of him, and right hand clutched a knife as the blade grazed over the curve of his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about?" he responded with a heaving exhale. He managed to wrap his hand over her wrist and it did not expect back her eyes turn into a livid shade of blue. "I am a professor of a university. Not a doctor who works in a laboratory. You will not find any answers from me. I have none to give."_

_She withdrew a step back and stared darkly at the pulse of his jugular elevate. She twisted her lips into a rueful smirk, she knew he was lying. Instead of him a chance to defend himself, she whipped out a Sig P226 German, 9MM pistol and brushed the muzzled over his stiff and pale chin. Her eyes glinted in the dim light around them and she curled on the trigger as she listened to the discharge of the pistol and dared him with a simple click of intimation. He jumped and grasped. A single tear fell steadily over his ghost-white cheek as she pushed the muzzle closer to his temple. "Please," he begged like a quivering dog under her murderous stare. "I have a family."_

_She responded to his fragile emotion, staring at his weakness and listening to his ragged streams of breath. Lowering the gun, she pulled an inch away from him, allowing him to break apart as beads of sweat rolled off his brow. There was a moment where a smudge of humanity broke through the icy chamber of her heart, she narrowed her head, locking her eyes to the floor and the stale cold stench of winter invaded her nostrils as she breathed in the coldness for a long moment but then she allowed her training and cruel conditions to control her actions. She lifted the gun, pulled the trigger and watched the bullet piece through his chest, creating a smoldering hole as blood poured and stained his white shirt. "I don't care." she breathed out in German, lowered her savage glinting eyes, watching his brown eyes roll back until she saw white, chin dropped and blood pour out from his mouth._

_Looking down at her gun, she pressed the COM lodged in her right ear, "Mission was successful. Target Hans Alexander Sholtzen terminated." she whispered, and listened to the pleased voice of her superior. She nodded and allowed the new orders next mission he gave her to consume all thought in the dark caverns of her tortured mind. "It will be done." She spun on the heels of her combat boots and vanished into the thick darkness. She left no trace of her elusive presence just shards of a bullet that exploded in her target's heart. His family didn't mourn over his death that night; Hydra gave them a chance to reunite with the deceased after an accidental car explosion._

* * *

She was prepared to sacrifice her life for the family that rose from a spore of the ice. She was perfection, a shell of human existence on the outside and a lethal huntress beneath the layers of flesh. She was saved from drowning from Doctor Armin Zola, who became her godfather after his barren sister Elsa took her in as a daughter and kept her healthy until she matured. During that period of time, she underwent various mind swiping, injections and training. She was brutalized, tested and molded into a soldier with an enhanced, peak human conditioned body. Everything her adopted family did, it was a sole purpose of making her into an obedient weapon, wiped clean from human imperfections and emotions. Her blood became cold, heart numb and mind vacant from memory. If she did conceive glimpses of faces they would be wiped clean through shocks of intense voltage until all that contained inside her head was red static. She felt nothing. She was completely frozen under HYDRA's power.

However, she found herself searching beyond the murky abyss and staring at a face of a young man with gentle blue eyes. And she kept that image hidden from the pulses of HYDRA's control. That face became her only piece of humanity to salvage in the darkness.

"James," she listened to her voice carry out a name, feeling cold breath ghost over her lips. Her mind started to function beyond the waves of HYDRA, and she recollected images of a stolen past, she remained stoic and unreadable to the men around her and kept her head narrowed. "I knew him." she whispered in a low pitch of breath, feeling a throb in her rib cage. She removed a folded piece of paper, and stared intently at the black and white image of her target for termination-Captain Steven Rogers.

"You are revered as invincible." she said in silence, staring at the photograph. Her eyes morphed into a livid shade of dark blue, hollow and merciless. "I see only a man who bleeds like everyone else."

She settled back, tensed shoulder blades pressing against the cold metal and crinkled the paper into a tight fist. "I know your weakness Captain Rogers and that will be your end."

Like so many missions of her past, Commander Alpha7 was prepared to kill and taste her victory as it will drain out of Steve's lifeless body. She will not fail her family.

"HYDRA is coming for you." she spat, growling with a vicious tone in darkness and calculated her strategy of attack has a flash of lightning of an approaching storm became reflective in her eyes, intensifying the blue underneath the shadows of the graphite mask. "We won't stop until you fall into our darkness."


	8. Chapter 8

**{+ Chapter 8 +}**

* * *

His blood was turning cold. The Winter Soldier paced his heavy tactical boots meticulously on the floor boards of the apartment, his metal hand clenched into a tight fist, he felt the anger erupting in his veins, a configuration of hate and confusion. His stomach rumbled with discontentment, vision blurred as smoldering tears gazed over his heavy lidded blue eyes; he fought to ignore the pain shuddering against his heart. He blinked trying to break himself away from a delusional state, he gathered the humid air in his lungs and holding his breath, he listened to the sounds of the heavy traffic and he gripped the denim of his jeans. The screeching of tires hitting the slick pavement made his ears numb, he quickly reacted and encased the palms of his gloved hands over the shell of his ears, blocking out the encroaching sounds. It was becoming condemning, he was starting to suffocate, blood pounded rapidly in the depth of his ears and tears streaked over the grime and dry blood cowling over his ashen skin. He felt like he was breaking into pieces, mind turning to slush and voice becoming locked away in his chest.

The smell of sickening sweat permeated the air. Tears splashed over the cracks of scuffed up hardwood, sweat meandered down his temples. He dragged his boots across the kitchen, glancing sharply at the faint red glow. The rumbling of his stomach branded him with hunger. It had been almost two days since he'd eaten anything that Alexander Pierce allowed HYDRA troops to give to him before the mission. He couldn't remember what they fed them, but it tasted bland and it was not filling enough to call a meal. "I need food," he said to the darkness and noisy blur, his hand clasped over the handle of the running fridge. He struggled not to snarl, paused in his thoughts and allowed instincts to drive him to open the door.

The Winter Soldier scanned his severe blue eyes over the metal shelves cover with spoiled cartons of milk, containers of fruit and a chocolate bar. Wincing, and gritting his teeth, he reached for the packaged bar and ripped the wrapper clean off, tossing it to the food. His sugar levels were decreasing and the amount of blood loss he endured during his trek to the safe house was making him feel lightheaded. Biting into the hard chocolate, he relished the combination of flavor exploring over his tongue, chewing the caramel and peanuts carefully and savoring every piece that landed on his tongue as the empty void in his stomach was filled enough to survive another night. He had to keep alert.

The hunger pains grew worst.

He clutched his metal arm over his stomach, and doubled over, crashing to his hands and knees. He managed to crawl to the cabinets, and slammed and pressed the muscular planes of his back against the wood. He rocked slowly, and lowered his head to his knees; matted and drenched strands of chestnut fell into his eyes, concealing the dim light out of his azure irises. He scrunched his abdomen muscles into a tight constriction, feeling his wounds fester with heat under the layers of his clothes. Little noises of distress fell from his lips with each shortened breath, buffeting the denim. He swayed against the weight of pressure erupting in his stomach, locked his joints and bore his fierce blue embers at the bright crimson Russian star etched over polished metal alloy, the mark of the inhumane legion he was forced into after he was pulled out of the ice. He never wanted to kill innocent lives, tear governments apart through HYDRA's methods of order and chaos. They turned him rabid, butchered his soul until he felt only coldness enter his heart.

_Your work has been a blessing to mankind._

A bitter smile crept over his lips as the droning voice of Alexander Pierce echoed in his mind. He lifted his metal hand close to his face and stared intently at the linger stains of maroon dried in between the creases of the plates. It wasn't his blood but from the man he saved from drowning in the Potomac River, the visage of Captain Steve Rogers emerged from the darkness of his tortured mind. The man he fought inside the SHIELD hellicarrier was almost like a ghost of his past, a face of someone to protect and trust. He knew that man in the spangled stars and stripes uniform was a symbol of valor, truth, resilience, power and power.

"Steve Rogers," the Winter Soldier's lips parted as he spoke in a hoarse and low whisper. He furrowed his brows and with a dismal tone repeated the words of the narrator "Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes..." He narrowed his eyes down, keeping his lips formed into a neutral and vacant frown. "They were friends." He swallowed a metallic taste down his raw throat. He felt tears starting to prick in his eyes and he buried his face into the crook of his arm, shaking his head and shedding out drops of anguish. "They were best friends." he cried softly and yet his remained blank and distant.

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift, vivid images of another life became as clear as day to him...

_-"Buck, don't you think you should take an easy on the drinking?" Steve advised, pushing a bar stool out and settling down his bony rear next to his best friend. He placed his small hand on Bucky's broad shoulder, patting in lightly. "You know that I'll have to help walk out when this is for?" he grounded with a pointedly look watching his friend tilt his head back and drain another glass of beer. "Come on, Buck. I think you had a few too many."_

_"And I'm feeling no pain, Rogers." Bucky returned with a hearty laugh, a cheeky smile spread across his youthful face and his blue eyes woozy after four pints he had consumed within the hour. His famous trademark smile assured Steve that he was still alert. He swayed slightly and laughed again, before placing his arm over Steve's back. "Come on, little punk." he slurred, his tongue licked over his upper lip. "Have a drink on me?"_

_"Bucky," Steve said, smiling to himself. He narrowed his cobalt blue eyes on his sketchbook. "You know that I can't drink."_

_"Right," Bucky nodded, rubbing his lips together. "I forgot." He gave a sad smile, patting Steve's back. "Sorry, about that, pal."_

_Steve shrugged; his blue eyes welled with defiance. "One day, Buck. I'm going to prove that I can be strong." he said bitterly._

_"For heaven's sake, you've got nothing to prove, Steve. You should know that." Bucky declared adamantly, poking a finger into Steve's chest. "Hell, I know that." He gave a gruff chortling laugh, feeling the effects of the alcohol increasing. He looked down at the sketchbook and brightly smiled. "Hey, how about I draw you something." he whispered._

_Steve raised an eyebrow. "How long has it been since you've drawn something, Buck." He questioned, catching a twinkle in his friend's blue eye._

_'"Just find me a fresh page," Bucky grunted back, his voice cracking. Steve shook his head and handed Bucky the book and a pencil. "Keep in mind, I'm a little rusty."_

_"A little," Steve snorted with a light giggle, watching Bucky straighten on the stool and focus his eyes on the blank page._

_Bucky twiddled with the pencil between finger and thumb, twirling it and scanning his hazy eyes over slightly over Steve on the stool poised and rigid, his short golden hair brushed off his forehead and piercing blue eyes collecting the warmth of the candle light between them. Always unfazed and so resilience, despite looking pale as a ghostly skeleton in baggy clothes. He saw pass all the illness, frail bone structure the ashen skin tone and bruises-he saw the brave heart of a young man who wanted to save the world from the bullies. But most importantly he saw his best friend, the orphan he saved in the schoolyard and cared for little a little, stubborn brother, beneath his "tough as steel" exterior he'd dreaded that the day would come when he won't make it in time to save him._

_"Well you're a sight for sorry eyes," he teased with a wolfish grin paying cross his lips. "Stop being a tight ass and smile, Rogers." he grumbled._

_"Wait, you're drawing me?" Steve asked with a hesitant tone in his voice._

_"Yes I am," Bucky answered, avoiding Steve's hard gaze, and dragged the point of the pencil on the page, biting on his bottom lip, his stomach churning._

_Steve sighed under his breath, "Bucky, don't waste that paper with me. Draw a beautiful dame or something." he implored, the candlelight caught vivid cobalt irises as he tore his gaze away, shifting his frail body into an uncomfortable position._

_Bucky laughed and removed his eyes off the page and a gave lopsided grin. "Would you like me to put you in a dress?"_

_"You're a big, drunken jerk, you know that right?" Steve shot back, laugh off sentiment._

_"And you're an annoying little, skinny punk." Bucky answered with a broad smirk as he light nicked Steve's shoulder. "But also you're one hell of a good friend."_

_Steve shook his head, and faintly smiled. «Same goes for you, Barnes."_

_Bucky dropped the pencil on the bar, and lifted up the drawing of a stick person holding a large circle. "Like it?" he asked, trying so hard not to keep a straight face._

_"Bucky," Steve shot him a piercing look of blue, stiffening his lips as he gazed at the drawing. He lightly shrugged. "Well, at least your artistic skills are improving."_

_Smiling dolefully, Bucky wrapped broad his arm around Steve, pulling him close and whispered. "You're more to me than that, pal. Always will be..."_


End file.
